Beyond the Frost
by independentalto
Summary: During the first storm, Steve Rogers crashed his plane into the realm of Arendelle. Natasha was sent to get him out. But what will happen when they're sent back again-this time to help Elsa defuse a magical catastrophe? And what happens when the Winter Soldier, of all people, shows up? (cover photo credit to ozhawk. And beta credit.)
1. Don't Marry the Man You Just Found

**When you forget the A/N the first time around...**

**HI! Welcome to the first story I've ever written on my own...that's not taken from a list, that is. (See All of the Reasons Why if confused. xD) I can't even take full credit for this, because I partially wrote this with ozhawk. Soo...still totally not mine. **

**Hope whoever's reading this has fun with it, and should also probably be warned now that the updates aren't going to be as frequent as they should be. Sporadic, almost. But still. Follow anyways :)**

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><p>"How much longer, Olaf?" Anna complained as she pushed back another snow-covered tree branch. "It's getting to be sundown, and I told Elsa I'd be back at the castle for dinner. You know how she gets when people miss dinner!"<p>

"Not much further!" the petite snowman declared, hopping energetically ahead of her with a bounce in his step. Kristoff and Sven were not far behind, Sven taking the time to dig his muzzle into every mound of snow imaginable. "I promise it'll be worth the whole trip out here!"

"He better not be kidding about that," Kristoff muttered good-naturedly to Anna, shaking some snow from his golden hair as he emerged from yet another pile being dumped on his head by a branch Anna had pushed aside. "Elsa promised that there'd be roast pig tonight. We haven't had roast pig in _forever_,"

"We had some last month," she teased back, gingerly picking up her pine green skirts to step precariously over the rushing stream, lest she slip and fall in. "Don't you remember how you said the exact same thing the month before that?" Kristoff stopped, as if he were seriously pondering the quandary. Sven snorted, spraying another fine coating of snow onto them before resuming his investigation of the snowbanks, disinterested in their meaningless conversation.

"Come on! We're nearly there!" Olaf called cheerfully from some distance ahead, causing Anna and Kristoff to hurriedly scramble after their snowy friend. "If we don't get there soon, Sven won't have time to carry us back to food!"

Sven looked up in surprise, letting out a whine of protest. Kristoff he could handle, Anna as well, but Olaf? With that delectable carrot nose sitting right above his antlers, tantalizing him? Uh-uh. Nope. Not while he was a living, breathing reindeer.

"Oh, hush, Sven." Kristoff assured him unknowingly, patting him on the muzzle. "Olaf's just snow. He hardly weighs much." If he could have, Sven would have rolled his eyes. Kristoff had no idea, did he?

"Ta-da!" Olaf exclaimed with a flourish, gesturing with a wooden arm to a large chunk of ice sitting on the ground. "Here it is! The next wonder of the world!" The four of them had emerged into a large clearing surrounded by plenty of snow-covered pine trees, all looming peacefully over them. It was almost ceremonial, how the ice had been placed strategically in the middle of the clearing. Kristoff dashed any sort of ceremony, however.

"It's a chunk of ice," he deadpanned. "It's a giant chunk of _ice_."

The glacier itself was a decent five hundred square feet, at the very least, its scratched-up surface sparkling from the rays of the setting sun.

"You can't blame him for trying," Anna whispered to him, accompanied with a slightly exasperated roll of her eyes before going over to examine the glacier, forcing a cheerful tone into her voice that didn't reflect the fact that they had just spent two hours hiking in the mountains only to find a giant chunk of ice. It was sort of an unspoken agreement that both of them would attempt to humor the snowman on every front possible, seeing as he would never be able to properly achieve his dream of experiencing summer. "Wow, Olaf, it's so...big! And sparkly! You can definitely slide down it, yes siree..." Her voice faded off into the background as Kristoff took the time to examine the love of his life. Anna looked absolutely radiant in the pine green dress she'd chosen to wear that day, her light chestnut hair glistening in the sun. As always, the one white streak stood out like a birthmark (which, in a way, it was,) a sore reminder of the trials they'd been through when Elsa had conjured up her first snowstorm. He tried not to dwell on it any more than he did on that bastard Hans. Luckily, he'd disappeared off of the map after his time in prison-Kristoff may or may not have played a part in that. No one had seen him since.

"OH MY SUMMERY GOODNESS!" Olaf exclaimed loudly, which was followed by a girlish shriek from Anna. Instantly, Kristoff was at his wife' side, Sven hot on his heels, not wanting to miss any action.

"Are you okay, Anna?" were the first words out of his mouth upon reaching the duo. Seeing two identical dropped jaws, Kristoff turned to look at what exactly had rendered them speechless. There, encased solidly in the ice, was a man. He had bright blonde hair, tousled in a hairstyle none of them were familiar with. It was mussed, which was to say the least, but seemed to be perfectly styled at the same time. His face was all prominent features, from a jutting chin to perfectly round cheekbones. Kristoff gulped. If he'd though the face alone was enough for an ugly case of inferiority complex, the man's perfect sculpted body, with a red, white and blue suit seemingly painted onto him, was probably going to leave him crying himself to sleep at night, despite Kristoff's own significant size. "Whoa."

"Whoa is right," Anna blurted out unthinkingly, slapping her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, cheeks beginning to flame red. "Not-not-not compared to you, that is," she stammered, trying to save her statement. "I was talking about that giant shield thingy he's got. It's so shiny...and cool...yeah, I'm just gonna stop talking before I totally humiliate myself here." Kristoff smiled sincerely at his wife's antics. She'd never really had a filter for her words, and it seemed it was a trait that hadn't faded over time.

"Hey, guys?" Olaf inquired of the three of them. "You think he's alive?" Without hesitation, he climbed up onto the glacier and took off his nose, poking at the ice with the tip of it. "D'you think he had too much winter? Helloooooooo? Anybody in there?"

"I think we need to talk to Elsa," Kristoff stated, Anna nodding in agreement. "We don't know what he is, or _who _he is, for that matter. For all we know, he could be a spy." He quickly hopped onto Sven's back, Anna following. "Come on, Olaf! We need you!"

"But what if he wakes up?" The snowman's voice had taken on a nasally tinge now that he had removed his nose. "Someone needs to give him a warm hug when he wakes up! I don't just like getting warm hugs! I like giving them, too!"

Anna chuckled. "Somehow, I'm not sure you're totally capable of putting that into your job description." She gestured to the still-perched snowman. "Come on. I'm sure he'll still be here when we get back." Reluctantly, Olaf stuck his nose back in and slid off of the ice, bounding over to Sven.

"Come on Sven, let's go!"

"I met a man!" Anna called out to Elsa, bursting through the marron doors of the castle's dining hall. "And I know I'm late for dinner, which I'm _really _sorry about, by the way, but Olaf found a guy in ice, and we're not sure if he's alive-or really, _what _he is, actually," she added to herself in an undertone, "but the point is, we need you to come take a look at him, because you're the queen and he might be a spy and there's the _slightest _chance that he might be alive and what kind of people would we be if we left him to die and-oh." She stopped at the sight of several dignitaries seated around the long, rectangular table, dropping into a low curtsy as another blush colored her already heated cheeks. "Gentlemen." She then turned to the large-statured man sitting to Elsa's left, donned in a rich, red cape with gold fringe and black body armor. "Prince Odinson." To Elsa, she whispered sideways, "I didn't know we were having company at dinner today."

"Which is precisely why I told you to show up. _On time_." Elsa's low-timbred voice held a tinge of amusement. "Then again, you never really had a knack for following directions, did you?"

"Princess Anna," Thor boomed from his seat. "Do come join us for this meal before myself and my hunting party go out to search for Loki."

"Loki?" Anna questioned, sliding into the seat left of Anna as the conversation restarted itself among the party, having stopped abruptly at her abrupt entrance. "In this realm? I don't think so."

"'Tis either here or on Midgard," the god answered. "I am inclined to think it is here, as there is a certain incarnation of Loki's that prefers cold environments."

"Ah." Anna quickly turned back to Elsa, her previously tamped excitement beginning to bubble over once again. 'Elsa, we met found a man out there and he's frozen in a giant block of ice and he's red, white and blue and has this really cool shield and-"

"I hope you don't intend to marry him." Elsa's cool voice cut straight through her sister's rambling. "After all, you two did just meet."

Anna opened her mouth to say something, perhaps some sort of sarcastic quip that she would eventually come to regret (she always did,) but was silenced by Thor's frown. "Red, white, and blue, you say?" She nodded eagerly, brown braid bobbing up and down.

"He's got a shield, too, and-"

"I fear he may be one of Midgard's own," Thor rumbled. "They have been searching for a man of your description for quite some time, Princess Anna." To Elsa, he inquired, "Shall we head to investigate this claim of your sister's?"

"Hello!" Anna, slightly annoyed at being talked about in the third person, waved her hands frantically in the air. "I'm still here, you know!"

Thor gave her a weak smile. "We could not doubt your presence, Princess Anna." He and Elsa rose from their seats. "Would you be able to show us the way?"

Anna was out of her seat like a shot, quickly moving towards the direction of the doorways. "Olaf!"

"The resemblance does seem to be quite uncanny," Thor remarked later in the clearing. The glacier was lit this time with the light of the moon instead of the sun, casting a more ethereal glow on the man inside of it. He and several of his company were gathered around the ice, Elsa and Anna standing on either side of him. "I do believe-" He reached out and lightly tapped the glacier. "-that this is the man they seek on Midgard. Captain America, they call him."

"Coooool." Anna ruined the semi-awed moment with her punctuated statement.

"I regret to shorten my visit to Arendale, Your Majesty, but I must return to Midgard to inform my associates of this discovery." Thor apologized to Elsa, who dropped into a curtsy, murmuring;

"Yes, yes, of course. Tell them that, should they wish to arrange retrieval, they are to send one unarmed civilian, unaffected by magic, to the castle." With a raise of Mjölnir, Thor was gone, leaving Elsa, Anna and the warriors left to stand around the glacier. "Let's get this back to the castle," she ordered in a regal voice. At once, the men sprang to life, beginning to wrap chains around the ice so that it was prime dragging material. "Keep him in a cold area until Prince Odinson and his guest return. We don't need any Midgardian deaths on our hands."

And so they went off into the moonlight, the large glacier dragging behind them.

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><p><strong>Review it? Please? I promise it'll be worth your time! And plus, if I see reviews, I'll update it faster! :D Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cupcake in my eye! <strong>


	2. Son of Coul and Man of Rage?

**It's been a month since this was updated..wow...sporadic updates in every sense of the word. Told you. **

**Shoutout to MariMart, writer6886, SapphireBlueSea, heiressofanor, Queen Martha Pond and Pikapegasus for following! :)**

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><p>"My son, what brings you here?" Frigga inquired as Thor entered her study, gracefully bowing to her as he did so. "You have not visited in quite some time. I take it all is well among the realms?" The room would always be its gilded, golden self, the god decided, but as long as his mother was in the room, everything would pale in comparison. She looked healthier, too, her golden tresses giving off a shine even from his position at the entrance of the room.<p>

"That is what I have come to discuss," he answered gravely, moving inside the room and shutting the heavy oaken door behind him. "The realms have converged upon themselves, I am afraid." At his mother's expansive hand gesture, he sunk into a chair, plush with royal violet velvet and cherry wood. "There has been a being of Midgard found in the realm of Arendelle."

"And is that such a problem?" She raised one eyebrow at him, perfectly aware of the area and its most recent escapades, including the infamous tale of Queen Elsa's ice-storm-slash-temper-tantrum. The facial expression on its own was a perfect balance of curiosity and sarcasm. "Those from Midgard do not survive long in the realm, no? Surely the being is deceased."

"I am well assured that he is alive," he answered, settling back into his chair. "Queen Elsa informs me that the defrosting process is coming along smoothly. It is almost like the defrosting of a chicken pot pie." Silence. Thor then remembered he was among Asgardians, not on Midgard. "It is this Midgardian concoction that must have the frost melted from it before heating to serve."

More silence.

"I still fail to see your conflict," Frigga answered finally, after struggling to comprehend her son's analogy, simply discarding his attempt at an explanation. "Your Midgardian foundling has the means to return home, does he not? Surely they have protocols in place for...situations such as this."

"As far as we have deduced, no," Thor admitted, stroking his beard. It really was getting quite straggly-Midgardian soap was paltry compared to his realm's-perhaps he could sneak in a washing before returning to Midgard. "When he was found, he was garbed in red, white and blue. They are the famed colors of America," he explained quickly, sensing some of the previous confusion making its way upwards. He paused then, attempting to find the appropriate words to express his sentiments without going the way of another chicken pot pie. "It appears he is some sort of representative character of the country. He was also found with a shield, Mother," he added hastily, regaining her attention. "It was of a strange metal, also painted red, white and blue."

"Could it be..." Frigga murmured, more to herself than to Thor, eyes alight with thought. "Surely not, that was almost a century ago...and Midgardians tend to have alarmingly short life spans...so it possibly couldn't be...of course not. Never matter." She turned once more to Thor, whose features were arranged into that of curiosity. "I understand Arendelle holds specific rules to incapacitated inhabitants of other realms?"

"Yes. Queen Elsa has stipulated that one unarmed individual worthy of magic may be sent to retrieve the finding," he inclined, bowing his head. "I plan to approach the Son of Coul and Man of Rage, wherever they may be, and ask of their assistance in this endeavor. It seems quite likely to me that they would have a worthy candidate."

"So your conflict lies in determining who is a worthy candidate, from those provided to you by the Son of Coul," Frigga stated, laying out the problem. Then, for the first time since their meeting began, she smiled. "Fear not. The test itself is relatively easy." With a wave of her hand, the air around her right palm shimmered until a Golden Delicious Apple lay in its center. "Your answer lies in this."

Thor didn't even try to hide his confusion, a frown gracing his normally adorable features. "It is an apple."

"It is only an apple to you because you are worthy of the magic of the Nine Realms," she explained. "Those who are not worthy will see it not as an apple, but as such." With another wave of her left hand, the apple in Frigga's right palm shimmered to reveal a brightly colored orange. "Your task is simple: Seek out the one who sees past the orange to the apple without you revealing the answer to its true identity to them. Only they will be worthy of the magic, and therefore, should be the envoy into Arendelle."

"I shall do this with the utmost heart," Thor promised fervently, taking the orange from his mother's outstretched hand. Standing up, he prepared to take his leave. "Thank you, Mother. I hope to resolve this situation quickly and without loss."

He was halfway to the door when Frigga's voice rang out once more. "Thor." He turned back. "Always remember that there are quite a few who are worthy...but even fewer are worthy of heart."

Her words were still echoing in his ears when the door shut behind him.

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><p>"Heimdall, where may I seek the Son of Coul?"<p>

The gatekeeper looked solemn for a moment, gazing out onto the Bifrost, his golden eyes concentrating through the various realms to fulfill Thor's request. Suddenly, an image sharpened itself into a control room, various people milling around it. Then, a wide expanse of area, not too isolated, but still enough to help the god achieve his mission. "He is at the base the Midgardians call 'The Hub'," he intoned finally. "I take it that it is where you wish to journey?"

"Indeed." Thor stepped forwards, apple delicately clutched in his hand, hammer in the other. "There is business to be done with its people."

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><p>It really had been <em>such <em>a long day.

First, Coulson's beloved coffee machine, which he'd saved from a consignment shop and had brought back to life, had decided that today would be the grandest of all days to return to the land of the dead, leaving the agent without his precious morning dose of caffeine. Second, one of the junior agents had had a meltdown concerning their field assignment. Wimps. Why even go into ops if you couldn't go with the flow?

And now, at three o' clock in the afternoon, 36 hours after the designated check-in time, Clint Barton had decided to show up completely unannounced for his debriefing, causing several agents who really should know better to fall all over themselves in a tizzy over the renowned agent.

Apparently, Coulson wasn't the only one to have a bone to pick with Barton, for just as he'd been about to demand that the archer sit his ass down and explain where the hell he'd been for the last thirty-six hours, Nick Fury himself had decided to show up.

Goddamn motherfucking Director Nicholas Fury.

"Would you care to explain why I've got the motherfucking Latvian embassy on the motherfucking phone screaming about having one of their own motherfucking diplomats being used as motherfucking target practice?"

Coulson rubbed his temples, not for the first time that day, and wondered how long it would take him to go bald. He now had a _very _good idea of where the missing 36 hours had gone.

"He insulted my bow," Clint defended, acting like using a diplomat for target practice was completely normal for someone of his caliber. Which, Coulson realized, it probably was. "He had it coming."

"You fired a motherfucking bomb at him, Barton. Even in motherfucking Latvia, I'm pretty sure bombs aren't used for motherfucking _target practice_." The last two words came out as a snarl, giving both men a good idea of just how much international incident Barton had caused this time.

"It was only a small bomb, sir," Clint deadpanned, sitting up to look the director straight in his one eye. "Barely enough to level a cardboard box."

"Just-can we deal with this another time?" Coulson asked, sighing heavily. "It's been a long day. I would like to debrief Barton as quickly as possible-no, not in that way, keep dreaming-and then I am in desperate need of a new coffee machine." He turned to Clint, who had slumped back into his chair. "Did you complete the mission objectives?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, got in, got out, minimal casualties, well, not unless you consider the idiot that insulted my bow, but-"

Suddenly, alarms began to wail. Agents began scrambling around the area, shouting instructions to grab certain pieces of equipment. Some had completely reduced themselves to uselessness, and Coulson was pretty sure he saw a wet spot on the floor somewhere. He knew Barton had caught it too, for they turned back to each other in unison and rolled their eyes.

"Amateurs."

Fury fixed the nearest agent in place with a glare. "What's going on?"

"There seems to be an intruder, sir. They got past our barriers without any detections. They appear to be armed, sir!" The agent squeaked that last point, on the verge of fainting.

"He's got a giant hammer!" one of the braver agents exclaimed, pulling up a video feed.

Fury pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted backwards from ten. "Motherfuckers. Stand down," he addressed the crowd. "It's only Thor. Were _none _of them in New Mexico?" he muttered to himself.

A circle of agents had gathered outside around the Asgardian, weapons raised. "What do you want with us?" one of them demanded, voice shaking slightly. Coulson raised an eyebrow. Looks like there had to be some anti-intimidation classes that needed to be upped at the Academy. Maybe he'd send in Romanoff at some point.

Outside, Thor gently laid Mjolnir down, putting his large, calloused hands up in a gesture of peace. "I mean no harm," he declared. "I only wish to speak with Son of Coul and Man of Rage."

At that, Clint burst out laughing. "Man of Rage?" Both Coulson and Fury froze him with identical glares, but to no avail. "Son of Coul? What is this, the Middle Ages?"

The agent that had spoken earlier didn't lower his gun. "Come with me."

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><p>"When all of this is over, we need to have a proper conversation about what you call people on Earth," Coulson told Thor as he sat down at a conference table with the god, the latter plunking his hammer casually onto the surface of the table. "So. What's your issue?"<p>

"Son of Coul, I believe one of your relics has been lost and recovered among one of the nine realms."

"And your point is?" Fury asked, settling an uninterested gaze on Thor. To his credit, the god didn't flinch a bit.

"We have determined that the relic is of immense value to you Midgardians." he explained. "Queen Elsa, ruler of Arendelle, where your relic was found, is willing to allow one Midgardian inhabitant to retrieve it."

"Sounds very generous of her," Fury muttered to himself. Coulson ignored him, choosing instead to lean forwards on his elbows towards Thor.

"So why choose SHIELD?" Coulson asked, leaning forward onto his elbows. "Why not pick any random person off of the street and send them instead?"

"As I said, Son of Coul." Thor raised an eyebrow. "I, along with Queen Elsa, believe that this relic is of importance to you Midgardians. I would not allow it to fall into the hands of a mere mortal to achieve such an important retrieval. To have it done is one thing. However, it is another thing to have it done it successfully." he replied. "The retriever must be worthy of heart, leading me to believe that one of your agents-" There were heavy verbal quotes around the words 'agents'. "-is an ideal candidate for the position." This time, Thor leaned forwards to meet Coulson's blue eyes, never wavering. "It is a very dangerous mission, Son of Coul. They must be unarmed but able to face danger that appears in the blink of an eye. They must be swift as a coursing river, with all the force of a great typhoon, all the strength of a raging fire, and mysterious as the dark side of the moon. Above all, they must not fear death, for they too could perish should the mission go awry."

It was silent for a few minutes as both men commenced a staring contest, each of them refusing to submit to the other. Finally, Fury cut in, with usual dry sarcasm,

"And how do you propose we find out who's 'worthy' of retrieving the relic?"

"That, my friends, is simple." Thor held out the apple to them, breaking the staring contest to a smirking Phil. "Tell me, what is it that you see?"

"It's an orange," both of them echoed simultaneously.

"Ah." A smile touched his face. So his mother's magic had indeed been effective. "Neither of you are worthy, it seems." Coulson looked a little put out at the idea of not being worthy of anything, but Thor pressed on. "My mother has laid an enchantment upon this object so that one who is truly worthy will not view the fruit as an orange, but of an apple of the most golden color. They alone will be the lone candidate for retrieval."

"Just what are we retrieving here?" Fury asked, having found the sense to ask what _really _mattered. Thor frowned a little before answering.

"It is a man like any other, it seems. He seemed to have been encased in a large glacier when he was found, yet I am assured that he is to make a complete and speedy revival. He was dressed in the colors of your country, carrying with him a round shield of some sort. I have reason to believe that he is a sort of character representation of your country." Thor sat back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since he'd entered the conference room. "That is all I know."

During Thor's mini-monologue, Fury's face had gone from impassive to slightly awed. 'Slightly awed' equated to telling Philip Coulson that his coffee machine had resurrected from the dead. But of course, that was a reality yet to be made. "I'll gather my best agents together at 1400 hours tomorrow."

"We shall meet then, Man of Rage."

"And then we're going to have that conversation. Mark my words."

"As you wish." As the god and director got up to file out of the room, Coulson was still sitting there, confused as to what had just transpired. Maybe he needed another coffee machine.

He was never relying on SHIELD coffee again.

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><p><strong>Reviews are highly appreciated and will be squeed over :) Points if you see the reference.<strong>


	3. Bobbing For Oranges

**EYYYYY! Finally! Over a month this time-my apologies!**

**Shoutout to izzleberry, firefly282, and storm4geddon for following!**

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><p>By lunchtime the next day, word had gotten out that something was going on. Rumors flew, thick and furious, about what could be involved. Perhaps it had to do with that 084 they'd found last week. Or the recent incident involving Coulson's Captain America trading cards. (Although, to be truthful, that sort of incident wouldn't exactly be new.) Hell, maybe Director Fury had <em>finally<em> gotten together with Maria Hill. Anything was an open option at this point.

But as Thor walked into the room compiled with SHIELD's best agents, all of the whispers turned to an awed silence as they stared at the Asgardian, who was contentedly toying with Mjolnir. He seemed oblivious to their veneration, humming to himself in some foreign language. All of the agents had been privy to the scene yesterday-and none of them wanted a repeat performance.

This had the potential to be something big. Bigger than they'd ever known.

It was Clint who finally broke the silence, several glares turning in his direction as he raised a chipper tone to the god. "Hey, it's the big dude from New Mexico!" He turned to Coulson and Fury, who were standing in the doorway with identical looks of exasperation on their faces. "You guys didn't call me in to shoot him this time, did you? I was kinda rooting for him," he explained, despite Coulson's mortified glare. "Got your hammer back, I see."

"That I did," Thor rumbled in return, raising Mjolnir in greeting towards the archer. Several agents skittered back, obviously cowed by the weapon's presence. "But that is not why I have returned today." The hammer was lowered, much to the relief of several agents, whose exhales could be heard in unison. "I come today bearing a mission which only the most worthy may undertake.

"There is a realm beyond here, one that has silently been existing in your very presences. In it is a kingdom by the name of Arendale. Recently there was a discovery of a Midgardian relic, and the task will fall to one of you agents to become an ambassador of Midgard, venture to Arendale, and safely retrieve the relic. Be warned, this is not a mission of folly," he said to them gravely, and a couple of agents slumped over slightly, disappointed. "The perils of this mission are great. Should you be chosen to assist in this endeavor, you may not return."

"Let it be assured, however," Fury announced, "that should you make it back safely, you will have done a great service for this country." In the background, Coulson frowned. What could possibly be so valuable that it warranted honorable mention? "That being said, Mr. Odinson had taken the liberty of preparing a test for us."

"You will each proceed into a room that is to be determined shortly," Thor rumbled, "and be presented with a singular item. You will simply tell me what that item is." Several agents looked at each other skeptically. That was it? Surely there was more.

"Alright, people. We'll start from the top," Coulson announced, clapping his hands. "Highest clearances first, and we'll work our way down." He gave a long look to all of the agents. "I hope you cancelled your plans, agents, because no one's leaving until we've found our envoy."

The insults shouted to him in reply were anything but polite.

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><p><strong>Maria Hill<strong>

"So the rumors are true?" John Garrett plopped into the rigid chair next to her, smirking as if it was the end of the world. "You're really dating Director Fury." Hill fought the urge to roll her eyes, instead settling for a coolly raised eyebrow.

"And just who told you that rumor?" she asked, still refusing to face him. "I'd be careful. The agents in Tech have a habit of making things up that they shouldn't."

"It was Barton, actually," Garrett replied, causing Hill's scowl to deepen. "Told me he had very good sources."

"Next."

She was spared the trouble of figuring out how to kill Garrett as she got up from her seat, shooting daggers at him all the way. Then the door shut behind her with a resounding CLANG, leaving nothing but silence.

"Agent Hill." Fury addressed her in his usual short, clipped tone. "How are you today?"

"I'd be better if there weren't any rumors flying around,_ sir_," she snapped at him. "They seem for be particularly aggressive today." Both Fury and Thor looked surprised at that, the former looking slightly unbalanced.

Thor just looked uncomfortable, and shifted in his seat before clearing his throat, forcing Hill to draw her attention back to him. "Lady Hill," he began. "I am going to show you one object, and you must tell me what it is." Gently, Thor set an orange onto the table. It took a minute for her to figure out what she was looking at, frowning and squinting at the fruit.

"It's an orange." If Fury looked relieved, he didn't show it. "Am I supposed to shoot it or something? Because I left my sidearm in my quarters."

"No," Thor answered, shaking his massive head of blonde hair. "That will be all."

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><p><strong>John Garrett<strong>

"And how are you today, Agent Garrett?"

"I'm doing fine," he quipped cheekily, leaning back into the chair he'd sat down in not too long ago. "I'm just curious about one thing. You and Agent Hill." Fury stiffened. "Are the rumors from Barton true?"

It was a while before the director could speak, but when he finally did, his words were harshly punctuated. Garrett's ears perked up in interest; if the normally unflappable Fury was getting furious, then something was _definitely_ going on.

"I don't care what you've heard, Agent Garrett, but whatever nonsense is circulating is by no means true." Fury's tone spoke volumes of finality. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Garrett saluted in response, too scared to put forth any sarcasm. He may have been raised a fool, but he wasn't raised suicidal. Satisfied, Fury returned to his position in the corner of the room.

"Good. Mr. Odinson?"

"What is it that you see?" The orange was once again placed on the table, the senior agent squinting at it before answering,

"It's...an orange?"

Both Thor and Fury let out minimal sighs of relief. "Thank you. You are dismissed."

"Did I win?" Fury just shot Garrett a glare, and he gulped. "I guess not."

* * *

><p><strong>Victoria Hand<strong>

As she opened the door to the single room where Fury and Thor were waiting, she heard the faint whispers between the two, heatedly discussing something or other. Probably beyond her clearance level-which was strange, because not much was above her these days. The large metal door slammed shut, announcing her presence. Fury jumped-today was becoming quite the number of firsts for him.

"Agent Hand," he said, trying to hide the fact that he'd actually been startled. "How are you today?"

"Could be better, I guess." She shrugged and slid into the chair, brisk nails tapping the table in front of her, the staccato emitting her impatience. "What's this object I'm supposed to be seeing?" She leveled an even gaze at both men, who stared just as evenly back. "Am I to be expected to do something to it?"

Silently, Thor placed the orange on the table. "Lady Hand, what is it that you see?" The answer was brief and immediate, almost too quick for the two men to distinguish.

"An orange."

"Very well," the god said, sounding slightly more enthusiastic. "You may go. Thank your for your assistance, Lady Hand."

When the door shut once again, Thor turned to Fury and remarked placidly, "Her diplomacy skills would have been atrocious. I would like to think she would have succinctly been thrown out of Asgardian court."

"I know. We try to keep her on domestic cases when we can."

* * *

><p><strong>Melinda May<strong>

"Afternoon, gentlemen."

"Agent May. How are you today?"

"As well as can be expected, Director." She and Victoria Hand seemed to be cut from the same cloth, Thor observed. Both were succinct and direct in their responses, and had the tendency to say as little as they needed. "Nothing's come up recently-I've not much to say."

"Lady May, would you please tell me what this is?" Secretly, Thor was hoping that Melinda May would be the worthy one. Queen Elsa had always been fond of feminine companions, he mused, and would likely take better if a female were to arrive on the castle's doorstep.

The orange was shown, and May stared at it. Furrowed her eyebrows. To the side, Fury's eyebrows rose interestedly. Perhaps they'd actually found someone worthy without having to dig too deep into the pool.

It was another minute before May spoke. "Edible."

Thor raised an eyebrow at her. "I beg your pardon, Lady May?"

"Edible." she repeated, in that same cool tone she'd had before. Detached and flat. "It is an orange, after all. Therefore, it's edible." The god's shoulders slumped. Oh, how he'd hoped...

"Thank you, Agent May." Fury spoke for the crestfallen Thor, who looked like someone had kicked the equivalent of an Asgardian pet. "That will be all."

* * *

><p><strong>Jasper Sitwell<strong>

"Really, sir, I'm not sure my diplomacy is in the best shape for these types of situations..." It was only five seconds in and the normally calm and collected agent had quailed in front of the director and god. "It's been a while since I've had to use it, you see..."

"Just relax, Agent Sitwell, and tell me what you see." Thor brought out the orange, this time in a slightly wearied motion, as he'd already brought it out many times before. The whole action had lost its charm, really, and had gone beyond repetitive way too long ago.

"It's an orange." There was no mistaking the confusion in his voice. Fury shook his head slightly, sighing heavily. "It's an orange, right?"

Thor saw the hope brimming in his eyes, his dedication to please, and had to look away quickly so as to not disappoint the poor man.

"It is indeed an orange, Agent Sitwell," Fury replied, a small amount of frustration working itself into his tone. "Thank you. That will be all." The door shut loudly as the dejected agent departed, and once again, the two were alone once more.

"We've got one more promising agent left, Mr. Odinson," he said to Thor, scrubbing a hand across his face. "After that, we'll be scraping the bottom of the barrel-and that's not a place we want to look."

"Do elaborate, Man of Rage."

Fury looked like he was about to lecture Thor once more, but settled instead for, "Let's just say they don't have the _greatest _social skills down there at the bottom..."

* * *

><p><strong>Grant Ward<strong>

"Sir." The one word was spoken with military precision: maximal crispness, minimal emotion. Then, a slight head inclination to Thor. "Sir."

"This is Agent Ward," Fury said by way of introduction as Ward sat back ramrod straight against the chair. "He's one of our most promising agents. A perfect candidate for what we'll need to achieve."

"With all due respect, sir," Ward began, stopping just short of raising his hand to speak, "Just what exactly would I be retrieving, should I be chosen?"

"I'm not allowed to say unless you're deemed worthy," Fury replied, placing extra emphasis on the words 'deemed' and 'worthy'. "Maybe after this, you'll see."

Thor gingerly brought out the orange, knowing full well the implications if Grant Ward was to see a piece of citrus. "What do you see here, Sir Ward?"

"An orange, sir." There was nothing but respect in Ward's tone. And maybe an unnerving disposition to follow orders. "Should I not be seeing an orange? Perhaps some other fruit?"

"No, Agent Ward, it's perfectly acceptable to be seeing an orange," Fury jumped in before anything else could be said. If given half a chance, he knew Ward would change his answer to whatever suited his superiors best. For a second, Thor seemed to express his disappointment, but held it back. "Thank you. That will be all."

"'Tis time to scour 'the bottom of the barrel', as you Midgardians call it," the Asgardian sighed. "Let us hope that it is not as tedious as it is on Asgard."

* * *

><p>"Agent Barton."<p>

The entirety of the SHIELD agents, ranging from levels six to nine, all looked surprised at the proclamation. Out of all of the people they could have picked. Barton? Really?

"Isn't he like, barely level six?" Garrett asked in a stage whisper. Hill glared at him. "Just saying. What are they thinking, scraping the bottom of the barrel like that? They'd be better off going down to level five. The admins would have better diplomacy skills than Barton."

Even Clint himself looked surprised, hopping down from his perch on a large filing cabinet and heading towards the isolation room. Once the door was shut behind him, he raised an eyebrow. "Me? You're really fishing for people here, aren't you?" He had just the slightest note of mockery in his voice, causing Fury to narrow his eyes. _The little shit. _

"First things first, Agent Barton," he growled at the cocky agent. "You are _very _low on our list of agents we'd like to send on this retrieval, so I daresay this is as annoying for you as it is for us. Secondly-" His one eye flashed a warning. "No more rumors. Are we clear?"

"Crystal." Clint was silent for all of five seconds before piping up, "But really, all I was doing was accelerating the creation of a truth. You two were bound to get together at _some _point, anyways-" He was cut off by another infamous glare. "Yessir."

"Show him the motherfucking fruit before I decide to shoot him," Fury seethed, contemplating how satisfying it would be to actually shoot the mouthy man. "I can't even look at him." Without ceremony, the fruit was brought out.

"It's an orange." Clint answered without preamble. His hand twitched towards his bow, which he'd slung on his back on his way in. "Can I shoot it off of your head?"

"Get out. And send Agent Coulson in."

* * *

><p>"I don't understand," Coulson said in hushed tones. "We've been through every single agent with enough clearance. How could we not find someone good enough? We even considered <em>Barton<em>, for God's sake. We'd _never _consider Barton for a mission like this."

"I am just as perplexed, Son of Coul," Thor answered. "Surely you must have more contenders."

"I'm afraid this is all we have, unless we want to extend this internationally," Fury sighed heavily. "I'm sorry we couldn't be of more help, Mr. Odinson."

"Do not fret, Man of Rage," Thor consoled, landing a large hand onto Fury's shoulder. "There remains other branches of your organization, are there not?"

Fury shook his head. "That was our best and brightest. What we gave you was all we had." To Coulson, he said, "Might as well give Barton the damn fruit. I'm sure he'll have fun shooting it." Coulson took the orange from Thor, opening the door. The rest of the agents had already left, having been addressed earlier about their failure. Only Clint remained, fiddling with his bow in a lone chair.

"Hey, Barton." When he looked up, Coulson tossed him the fruit. "Have an orange." The projectile was caught with one hand, Clint immediately going back to his bow after catching it. "Have fun."

"_There _you are." The irritated huff of Natasha Romanoff sounded around the corner, the short stature of the redheaded spy following shortly after. "Weren't we sparring today?"

"Some sort of weird meeting thing," was his offhanded response as she slouched into the seat next to him. "Couldn't get out." As a peace offering, he handed her the orange. "Orange?"

Her eyebrows raised slowly. "Barton? That's an apple."

* * *

><p><strong>Cue the THUD of someone hitting the ground. Reviews? Please? They make my day! :)<strong>


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